


Try It Again, Breathing's Just A Rhythm

by loonyBibliophile



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Non-Sexual Intimacy, wound care
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-05
Updated: 2014-02-05
Packaged: 2018-01-11 06:32:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1169819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loonyBibliophile/pseuds/loonyBibliophile
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Simmons gets so busy fussing over other people and trying to save everyone's life sometimes she forgets about herself. But in the end, it's okay, because Fitz never forgets.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Try It Again, Breathing's Just A Rhythm

Fitz follows Simmons out of the room, silently making his way behind her to the stock room. He can tell by the decibel and the tightness of her voice that's she's about to break, just gritting her teeth and putting on a show for the others. He watches her for a moment, gauging her state of mind, but after a few seconds the sight of her almost crying and rustling helplessly through drawers in a desperate attempt to scrub Skye's blood from her hands is simply too much to bear. He reaches for her shoulder and she knows it's him before she turns to look, her resolve shattering the moment his hand rests against her. Turning towards him, she collapses forward, letting him wrap her in his arms. Her sobs shake them both, but her just grips her as tight as he can, shoving his face into her shoulder, trying not to remember seeing her fall to the floor, seemingly dead. His fingers dig into her back, desperately clinging to her. He wraps a hand around up to her head, moving to stroke her hair only to find it matted with blood. Not Skye's, hers. 

"Simmons." he says softly, his face close to her ear. She shakes her head. "Jemma. Jem, come on. You're hurt. You could have a concussion."

"But.. Skye."

"She's stable. You can't help her if you're unconscious. You can't help anybody in you're unconscious. Let me clean you up." 

Simmons swallowed hard but nodded, slumping even further against Fitz. He pressed his face into her hair, rubbing her back. 

"I'll be right back, Jem. I'm just gonna get some hot water."

"Okay." her voice was rough and tired. "Hurry back." 

Leaving the store room, Ward stopped him on his way to the kitchen.

"Where's Simmons?"

"In the storeroom, I'm just getting some water before I go back and clean her up." 

'She needs to be monitoring Skye." Ward's mouth was set in a hard line. Fitz sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"She will, in just a few minutes." 

"Is Skye stable enough for that?"

"She's going to have to be."

"And if she isn't?"

"Oh for CHRIST'S SAKE Ward. Jemma is a damn human being, who is standing in a cold room sobbing and bleeding and she can't bloody well help anybody if no one stops for a minute to help HER. So if you'll excuse me, I'm going to clean up her head wound, make sure she doesn't have a concussion and force her to drink something, and then, and ONLY then, will she resume observing Skye's vitals." Fitz took a deep breath. "Sorry, that was inappropriate. Simmons and I are both very worried about Skye, but my point remains. Someone, someone being me, needs to tend to Jemma and make sure she's alright before she goes back to playing doctor." After patting Ward awkwardly on the shoulder, Fitz resumed his walk to the kitchen, putting on a kettle for tea while he filled a bowl with hot water from the sink, and grabbed a dishtowel. it would work better than cotton balls or gauze to dissolve the blood on Simmons hair, and fall apart less easily. When the kettle whistled, he poured a mug for Simmons, and one for himself for later, leaving it to steep in the kitchen as he carried the other mug, the water and the rag into the storeroom. Ward looked at him apologetically as he passed and Fitz nodded. Tensions were high and people weren't thinking straight, it was understandable. But in that moment nothing matter as much as Jemma Simmons. 

When he re-entered the storeroom, she was sitting on the floor, leaning against the cabinets. He set the bowl and mug and towel down and lowered himself beside her, pushing the mug of tea into her hands. She took it silently, wordlessly moving herself over to settle against his chest. As she drew the tea to her lips, sipping carefully, he pushed her head straight as gently as he could, taking up the rag in his right hand, soaking it in the warm water from the bowl. With as much care as he could, he pushed the cloth against the wound on the back of her head, soothing her winces and hisses with his free hand, rubbing her arm. Slowly, he washed the dried and drying blood from her thick hair, relieved to see the wound itself was no more than a welt and a small cut, nothing even requiring stitches. Without thinking, he pressed his lips against it softly, and Simmons shut her eyes, relaxing forward. Satisfied all the blood was cleaned from her hair, Fitz ran his fingers through it slowly, over and over, until all of the tangles and snarls were gone, and the only sign of their earlier battle was the dampness from cleaning it. 

"Turn around." he whispered softly, and she complied. Taking up the cloth again, he ran it carefully over her face, removing the last smudges of blood and that awful blue toxin from her skin. She shut her eyes again, letting the gentle way he touched her soothe her frazzled nerves. Once her face was clean and warm, he set to work washing all the blood off her hands, even taking the care to work the dried blood from the creases of her knuckles and cuticles, the warm cloth and his warm fingers working in tandem to drain her of the tension in all her limbs. When he finally set the washcloth down, she let herself collapse again, resting her forehead against his chest, where she could feel the rattle of his breath and vibration of his heartbeat. He smoothed his hands over her hair and shoulders. 

"Thank you, Leo." her voice cracks when she speaks, from exhaustion and crying. He nods. 

"Anything for you." 

After a few moments of silence, Fitz can feel a smile, a small one but a smile, on Simmons face. 

"They keep trying to split us up. But they never ever will." her voice was quiet, but evened out from earlier. Fitz smiled softly. 

"Yeah. But we'll always be alright, you and me."

"I love you." her voice is muffled by her face being pressed into his chest, and he feels the words more than hears them, but he understands all the same. 

"I love you too, Jemma."

"Will you stay in the lab with me tonight? I don't.. I don't think I could go it alone." 

"Wouldn't dream of leaving you by yourself. What kind of lab partner would I be then?" he smiled carefully and she hugged him one last time, tightly, before finally pulling herself to her feet, bring her mug and Fitz with her. The pair spent the night sitting up in the lab, watching over Skye as the Bus soared through the air towards a hospital where Skye could get the help she needed. A few hours later, the team touched down in the helicopter bay of the nearest facility. Ward escorted Skye into the ER along with Coulson, May staying to guard the Bus and Fitz and Simmons being left behind to sleep. With a cellphone tucked under the pillow to keep them up to date on Skye's status, they both curled up in Fitz's bunk, and no one bothered questioning them sleeping in the same bed. it was clear at that particular moment what they needed more than anything was each other.

**Author's Note:**

> As if I wasn't going to write Fitzsimmons after that heart wrenching trainwreck of an episode. My kingdom for 'Leo' writers, MY KINGDOM FOR A 'LEO'. 
> 
> Play 'Catch the Reference' in their dialogue at the end of the fic if you like


End file.
